I've Got To Dream Big

Why can't you dream big in France? I've begun to notice this pattern in French thinking. It's nowhere near like the American dream. Here, you do what you have to do make a living, pick hobbies to stay happy, and you accept what you have wealth wise. There's no push that you have to be better, bigger, richer, stronger as back home in the states. If you are happy selling fruit at an outdoor market every day, you do just that. This comparison was brought up in one of the books I got for Christmas:  Lunch in Paris by Elizabeth Band. When I first read it, I thought I understood what she was talking about, but I never really experienced it until lately. On Wednesday, I had the instructor from the city's education department come to school to check up on us. Since I'm working in a school that's never had an assistant before, she comes to us more often than other schools. We were brainstorming ideas on how to have the teachers integrate English when I'm not in their classes. The main issues at hand are: consistency, the kids' attention span, and time management. I had explained what I had already started in the school and what I wanted to do. At one point she told me, "You can't do all of it on your own this year. I'm talking about over the course of the next few years." My heart dropped and my dreams disappeared. I wanted to talk back, I wanted to tell her how disorganized the school system here is, how much I want to do all of this on my own because if I don't no one will start them; but I didn't.  Our education system has its own flaws as well, no doubt. But the main difference is that we always have this little fire in our bodies to be better, to consistently try to improve what we have, to get better. It's sort of understood that we have to improve and do better; it's implanted in our brains from day one. While we do evolve from this mindset, we also become extremely exhausted, stressed out, and obsessed over things that might not even occur in the future anyways. We can't just sit still for a second and think about how far we've come; we have to always stress about what we have to do next to get higher in the world. And as much as her words hurt my "dream big" attitude, it also brought me back to Earth. I need to think more about the present and realize that just being here and saying hi to the kids might make their day. The board games, after school club, and possible Spring concert are more so things to make me happy here. The teachers are content with what they do and they don't feel like I'm not doing enough like I do. They think I do more than enough already and I need to accept the fact that France is not America. If they don't like something, they faire la grève, but if they don't do anything, they are content.




In other news, this past weekend my two awesome Delaware girlfriends, Katelyn and Kristen, came to visit me. They arrived Thursday morning while I was teaching so I went to find them at the last metro stop (since they don't speak French and had no idea where to go) and then took them back to school to show them my kids. Mind you, this is the class that got way out of control when I started teaching the weather and are always loud, so just imagine what happened when I brought two friends in with me.
Is that your sister?, She looks just like you; you all have the same face, They're pretty, Are they going to stay with us all year too?


I took Kate and Kris around the city and pretty much covered all of the main spots in the two and a half days they were here (see below). We even attempted to French night club which I find even more conservative than before after hearing stories about the way the girls dress and dance in England.


What blew my mind the whole time was that A) they were here, in real life, not on Skype B) that we were in a foreign country. I could not get that amazement feeling out of my head as I lead them on mini tours and cooked and laughed and danced. We aren't riding bikes on the paths at the beach, we're in France, riding through a park that's bigger than Central Park in NYC.

 Place de Terraux (new public art- weather balloons to see how much pollution the city produces).

 Tartines from L'épicierie, my new favorite eating spot!

 Rue de la Republique at night during les soldes

 The famous Roman ruins (a gigantic old theater with box seats) dating back to 19 A.D.

 My homemade Boeuf bourginon

 Have a wonderful week everyone! Stay warm in that snow back home!

Ne Vivez Pas Le Vent D'hiver!

So the French equivalent to the "Let It Snow," is "Vivez Le Vent D'hiver." Yeah, not so much thank you. I wish this frigid 20 mph wind would die, not live on and on. It's not bringing snow and it makes me lose all blood circulation in my body. Furthermore, it kills my ambition to get out and about in this city of mine. I'm glad I took advantage of the warm weather last week and saw Perouges, a medieval village a half hour away. Here are a few glimpses at the quaint village. We arrived during lunch so it was extremely quiet; it almost felt like we were intruding. As we walked around in awe of it all, I began to question how long it took for every stone to be placed to build the church, or the little restaurant we drank hot chocolate in, or the fortress around the village. Who was involved? How did they feel about what they were doing? Did they live to see it finished?

 "One of France's most beautiful villages."

 Walking up the hill

 "One of the ways you know if it's a medieval building is by the window pane."

Sheep!

My first quiche!

And if you're still cold, whether you're reading here in France or back home, I hope this song will warm you up a bit. You can't go wrong with reggae-ton.

Sunset Soon Forgotten

The more pictures I share, the more I realize that the beauty I'm trying to prove to you is already fading. It's not what it was in that exact moment when I saw what was in front of me. Unfortunately, that's the struggle artists run into every time they try to recreate what they find so incredible.  The first encounter, the first glimpse, the first rush of ideas are all so precious that what follows cannot even be thought of in the same light.

I'm suddenly thinking back to when we studied the Native Americans in Third Grade; I was so confused as to why they thought that if they had their picture taken, their soul would be taken away. I didn't get it; I grew up in a community that celebrates cameras.  We take pictures to commemorate every important event, every special occasion, every "first". We use them to look back and see how we've grown and remember what we might have forgotten about ourselves. After last weekend's trip to the Alps, I have come to understand the Native American's viewpoint on this. Granted, I will still continue to click away during my time here to share with others, but I have realized that it's not ever going to be the same as in person. The life of the picture is frozen in time and hence, it's essentially dead. I cannot replay the moment; I can only stare and try to remember what I thought back then. In comparison, I have the picture taken by my memory. Last Saturday night we all went out onto the balcony to get some air after eating a ton of raclette. The stars were so vivid that you really could see them twinkling. I started finding the constellations I learnt back in the 6th grade. I tried to explain to everyone what the names are in English as they puffed on their cigarettes. It was so quiet. It was nice to get out of the city and be able to look at the same stars that other people see around the world. Yet there was no inclination to take a picture of the five of us standing there at night to preserve the moment. It was a wonderful, special weekend, but I think I might like the moments I leave for my brain to preserve more than the ones on a 10 GB USB disk. There's something that lives on; you are able to still smell the wood burning, you are able to still hear the wind, you are able to feel the wooden ledge, and you can still taste the bitterness of the aperitif on your tongue if you just close your eyes and think back. There's more than just the sight of the stars in that memory.

Or furthermore, when I finally was able to stop myself in my skis. The sun was shining, the mountains were smiling, and my favorite all time happy song came blasting on the loudspeakers as I pushed myself down the mini practice hill. I was laughing, smiling, happy. I didn't care that the only snow pants that fit me were for a 12 year old. I didn't care that I had to rent Junior skis because my feet and body haven't grown since I was 13. I didn't care if I fell on my ass (which I didn't) in front of the cafe. I felt on top of the world even though I was at the bottom of the mountain. I felt at home in a very foreign place.

 On the drive over with Audrey

 The chalet

 La Clusaz at night

 Mountain Cheese-AMAZING

 Looking up while sledding

The chalet I would love when I retire

What Would You Do?

Today one of the CE1 girls (equivalent to 1st grade) came up to me during recess and asked me:
Are your parents nice?
I said yes, smiled, and looked back at her expecting her to ask another question. No response.
Are your parents nice too? I asked without thinking.
No. They're mean.

I couldn't stop there; being who I am, I had to ask more questions.

How are they mean?

They used to buy me dolls but threw all my toys away. They don't give me anything anymore. 


My heart dropped. I know there's a deeper story but she seemed so sad just hearing that my parents are nice to me that I didn't want to keep pushing her to talk about it. Plus, the teachers were clapping for the classes to get into line to go back inside.

So, what do you do? Do you try to help the student that comes to you for support? Will one hour of English really make a difference in her life? If you help one kid, what about the rest that you know don't go home to good environments? She's smart as hell, but will her parents' carelessness and unemployment rub off on her as she grows up?

Most days I laugh with the kids at school. Today I wanted to ball my eyes out. Movies like Take the Lead and The Blind Side make this look way too easy.